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In my pre-teen years, the best day of the year wasn't Christmas. The day I looked forward to most was the annual trip of our Little League team to Yankee Stadium on Old Timer's Day.
The Major Deegan Expressway and the smell of the East River as we passed by the George Washington Bridge meant only that we were closer to heaven, that tiny piece of real estate on River Avenue and E161st St.
Actually, heaven was a lot closer to the field than we ever got. But it really didn't matter. We were THERE. It's always been the same - the years have gone on - and so have the players.
But, the magic of the Stadium has never lost its feeling.
And on this bright pleasant day in August 2003, the Yankees beat the Chicago White Sox 7 to 5. But as it was then, the game itself hardly mattered. It's really more than that...........